


To Bloom Again

by Katsudonna



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Demisexuality, Fae & Fairies, Florist AU, Fluff, Immortality, M/M, Magic, Victor is a flirt, and loves a good romance, he takes that role very seriously, minor original characters, phichit is also extra, phichit is an aromantic asexual, phichit is captain of the yuuri katsuki protection squad, victor can't use technology, victor has a very tragic backstory in this sorry, victor is bi, victor is immortal, way too many aus in one fic, will add more tags as they apply, yuuri is magic too, yuuri is panromantic demisexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsudonna/pseuds/Katsudonna
Summary: What is one meant to do when the sole driving purpose in one’s life suddenly ceases to be?Victor Nikiforov had spent nearly 40 years fleeing the grasp of his father, a Russian mobster who sought to use Viktor’s special powers for his own benefit. But the seemingly endless fleeing, hiding, subterfuge, and deception comes to a screeching halt when his father suddenly dies from a heart attack and his criminal empire collapses in on itself. When the fuel of revenge has run dry, what is to drive him?Perhaps he will find the answer in a small New England college town, where an extraordinarily talented florist may just give him the new purpose in life he needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalarrow/gifts).



> THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FIC FOLKS <3
> 
> THANK YOU to my bestest friend and twin eternalarrow for beta'ing and also generally being the most awesome best person I know as I flail about YOI constantly I LOVE HER SO SO SO MUCH
> 
> And ughhhh I suck at making titles. It is what it is. ENJOY!

Victor Nikiforov sighed as he dumped his suitcase—the meager assemblage of his belongings after 57 years of life—into his new two-bedroom apartment. It was on the third floor of a converted Victorian mansion, surrounded by towering elms, just on the outskirts of the historic downtown of the quaint little college town he has chosen to live in. Nearly twenty years earlier he had seen the town in the pages of a magazine, and the eclectic old architecture and large town green had stuck in his mind.

Victor had always been impulsive. While largely quite a forgetful person, bad with names and faces, and prone to forgetting occasionally vital bits of information, his brain would latch onto strange things, memories and facts of little consequence, that would worm their way deep into his brain.

(He supposes it was his powers that kept his out of harm’s way all these years, although what harm could come to someone who was (to the best of his knowledge) immortal?)

And so, when, after forty years on the run, when he was granted a life of complete and utter freedom, he had remembered those glossy pages and thought to himself, oh, wouldn’t that be a lovely town to live in? He had filed for the Special Persons visa, filled out the forms and the forms, done interview upon interview, had his abilities examined, paid all the many fees and ended up in this little apartment, with dormer windows, weirdly slanting walls, and creaky wood floors.  
The only bit of furniture he had gotten so far was a mattress, still in its packaging, which he could see lying on the floor in the bedroom through the open door. People normally had a lot of things when they lived, didn’t they? Mattresses, tables, sofas, lamps. Pictures of friends and family, books. Mementos of trips or happy times past, graduations, weddings, birthdays.  
All he had was lone suitcase and bad memories.

\----  
Victor had never gone to college. In fact, he’d never had any formal schooling at all. This wasn’t to say he wasn’t educated—he’d had the very best tutors money could buy growing up. He had the best everything money could buy growing up, but as the saying goes, there are some things that money just couldn’t buy. He had gotten his GED and decided to sign up to audit some college classes; two, in fact. GNDST/AMST/HIST 234: Gender and Sexual Identity in America, 1800-1950 and AST 101: To the Stars: An Introduction to Astronomy. He had chosen the first two classes that seemed even remotely interesting and took them. Having no money issues whatsoever (past success in stocks and favors done for some very powerful people), he had a lot of time on his hands, and he may as well take the chance to ease his way into mainstream society. He had bought an iPhone, but he should probably buy a computer, he mused, as well as a couch. And a kitchen table. And some pots and pans.

He was, in fact getting rather excited at the prospect of meeting new people. He hardly looked even 25, let alone 57, so he figured that would help him fit in. And he had an ease of manner that people seemed to like, through in a little flirting, how hard could it be? His classes didn’t start for three weeks. He decided to do some shopping. He had to buy his textbooks, after all. There was a Goodwill in town, maybe he could buy some furniture there.

\----  
It was a blisteringly hot summer day. The cicadas practically screamed in the heat, and the riotously pink petunias erupting from window boxes seemed to sear his eyes. It was hotter than Russia certainly had ever been, but then again, he’d certainly been in hotter places. He could do this. He could drag these heavy bags full of pots and books back to his apartment where he only had a fan and no air conditioning and lived on the top floor with no blinds yet. He could do it—he could—

Nope. No he couldn’t. He was not made for this heat, despite being immortal, he was going to die, his beautiful silver hair was clinging grossly to his forehead, and God only knew what he looked like. He had a horribly embarrassing habit of turning borscht-red when overheated. And it was certainly not beautiful.

He began searching for a store, any kind of store, someplace with some air conditioning that he could at least take a break in before he headed back out into the hell that smoldered outside. He was met by row after row of private residences, until—at last! He was saved! A storefront, overflowing with a tumultuous collection of flowers arranged in dozens of planters, and a sign with gold cursive declaring, CELESTINO FLOWERS.

With a cry of delight, he made a beeline for the store, pushing open the door with a tinkle of the bell, and felt cool air and the smell of flowers rushing to meet him. With a sigh of delight, he pulled off his sunglasses and let his eyes adjust to the darker room.

“Hello, welcome to Celestino Flow—oh! Oh my goodness, are you alright? Can I get you some cold water?”

Blinking as the room came into sight, he searched for the sound of the voice. The store was stocked floor to ceiling with dozens of flowers he couldn’t begin to name, he saw a bespectacled face staring at him with concern from behind a long wooden counter. The face came into focus, the black hair, the clear brown eyes, supple lips, the soft lines of his body. This man was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man he had ever seen. EVER, in his 57 years of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT this story is based on a dream I had. Yes, I think of Yuri on Ice even in my dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from Yuuri's perspective!

“Ughhhhh,” groaned Phichit, sprawling melodramatically over the wooden counter as Yuuri pulled the flowers needed for the day’s orders.

“UGHHHHHHHHH,” he groaned louder when Yuuri ignored him.

Peeved, he walked up to Yuuri, pulled his headphones out, and repeated, as loud as he could, “UUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!” 

Yuuri jumped. “Jeez, Phichit, don’t scare me like that!”

“You were ignoring me again!” Phichit pouted.

Yuuri was quite used to his roommate and best friend’s antics. He sighed and pulled out his headphones. He was never much of a morning person, unlike Phichit, who was an Energizer bunny running on lots of coffee and maybe 4 hours sleep at any given time. How he did it, Yuuri would never know. Yuuri liked to listen to music as he worked in the mornings to create his own little world where he didn’t have to deal with how early it was or speak to other people. At least Phichit wasn’t other people.

“What is it, Phichit?” He groaned.

“IT’S HOT AS HELL OUTSIDE YUURI, IT’S NOT EVEN 9AM AND I’M DYING,” Phichit had draped himself over the counter again and flailed dramatically. 

“Ahh, watch it, you’ll crush the flowers!” Yuuri fretted.

“YOU WERE CRUSHING MY SOUL BY IGNORING ME!” Phichit retorted.

Why Phichit, the World’s Most Outgoing Person, had decided to become friends with such a shy, retiring, awkward person as himself, Yuuri would never know. Phichit went to parties, he had thousands of followers on Twitter for his witty posts and thousands on Instagram for his great selfies and beautiful pictures of flowers and their campus, and was constantly called out to when they walked in the campus together. But he was grateful nonetheless. Though perhaps not at this moment.

“Phichit Chulanont, you interrupt my music to complain about the WEATHER?” Yuuri planted his hands on his hips. “These arrangements aren’t going to make themselves, you know! Get to work!”

“Only if you promise to talk to me!”

“Okay!” Yuuri through a hand to his forehead in mingled defeat and frustration. “Okay, I’ll listen.”

Phichit immediated perked up and started grabbing flowers.

“Okay, so my sweet darling Yuuri, I heard the JUCIEST gossip last night at June’s party, and ohmygod you just WON’T BELIEVE—”

Now that he had Yuuri’s ear, Phichit was determined to chew it off. At least Yuuri only had to supply the occasional “uh-huh” and “really?” and “I can’t believe that!” for Phichit to be satisfied. As they were finishing up the last of the bouquets, the bell on the door tinkled happily.

In walked a pair of tiny elderly ladies, dressed in matching lurid yellow Hawaiian shirts, pink pants, white sneakers, and identical white curly wigs. 

“Ah, good morning, Ms. Jenkins, Ms. Hu,” Yuuri smiled at them. As they had done so many times before, Floresha Jenkins beamed at the pair of boys working the counter, and Linda Hu’s face remained as impassive as a block of stone.

“Good morning, Yuuri, Phichit,” Ms. Jenkins gushed. “We’re here to pick up our arrangement!” 

“AHH, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MS. JENKINS AND MS. HU!!” Phichit cried out, rushing over to plant a kiss on each of the women’s cheeks and grabbing Ms. Jenkins’s hands. Even with a kiss planted on her cheek, Ms. Hu remained inscrutable. “You’re gonna love your arrangement, Yuuri and I just finished it, and I must say, it is a MASTERPIECE, almost as beautiful as you two ladies!”

“Oh, Phichit! You are such a sweetheart! We just love to visit you two—you always brighten our days, isn’t that right, Linda, dear?” Ms. Jenkins didn’t actually wait for Ms. Hu to respond, but bulldozed ahead, “And this store has the most beautiful flowers! Bigger and prettier than all the other stores, especially in the last year! And they seem to last forever! But, our anniversary, gosh, who would have thought we would reach fifty years? We’re so old! I know I—oh, my goodness—oh my boys, you have outdone yourselves!”

Ms. Jenkins gasped as Yuuri brought out the arrangement—two dozen lavender roses interspersed with stock and white lilies. Ms. Jenkins had ordered one dozen, more befitting their fixed income, but since they were such good, routine customers, Celestino had given the boys the go-ahead to double the order.

“The best bouquet for our best customers! You two love each other sooooo much, and you’re so sweet together, we just want you to have the best!” Phichit gushed. Yuuri smiled from the counter. Phichit was a sucker for romance.

“Oh Phichit, I hope you find somebody you love someday, too,”

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Jenkins, for the thought, but I don’t need anybody!” Phichit laughed. “I just love to see other people in love! It brings me so much happiness when I see others happy that I just—ahh! Happy Anniversary, you two!” Phichit was attempting to fan away the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

Ms. Jenkins and Phichit went on chatting for some time, while Ms. Hu remained as silent and stone-faced as a boulder. Yuuri watched, amused. When another customer with a multiple order walked in, Phichit finally bid his farewells and Ms. Jenkins and Ms. Hu went off to drop off their flowers before going on their date at the botanical garden. Yuuri bid them farewell with his best shy smile, wishing them a happy anniversary again, and wondering how Phichit could be so at ease with just about anybody.

When they left, Phichit sighed, a dreamy expression on his face as he rested his hand on his cheek. 

“Oh Yuuri,” Phichit exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart, “I hope you have a romance as good as that one day!”

He scrunched his nose. Somehow, he didn’t really want a Ms. Hu in his life. Or would he be the Ms. Hu? Oh god, he hoped not…

“How is it possible for an aromantic asexual to love love as much as you do?” Yuuri chuckled.

“Hey, just because I love romance doesn’t mean I want to BE in one!” Phichit teased back.

“But you—you!! I knew you were ignoring me earlier, otherwise you never would have agreed to let me set you up on a date with that bio major!” 

Yuuri squeaked.

“I met him at the LGTBQ+ mixer, he’s gay, but open to aces, so he’d be good for a demi like you! Come on, Yuuri, will you let me set you up?”

Yuuri was turning redder by the second.

“If you’re so anxious to get me hooked up with someone, how come you chased away that girl I met in the library? She seemed nice! She liked the same music I did too—”

“She was bad news,” Phichit responded flatly. His whole expression changed suddenly, from one of teasing amiability to sternness. Yuuri was shocked by his turn of demeanor and didn’t respond. Phichit would do this, rarely, but it had happened in the past—he would refuse to talk any further on the subject and would remain dead set on his opinion. Yuuri knew that this particular conversation would be over, at least for five minutes, when Phichit would bring up the bio major again.

\-----

Yuuri sighed as he sat at the counter, going through his phone. The busiest times for flowers were in the morning when they first opened, then everything would be pretty dead the rest of the day. Phichit had gone to grab lunch leaving Yuuri to man the counter by himself. He was perfectly happy when he won the match of rock-paper-scissors and got to stay in the air conditioning while he sent Phichit out in the heat to grab lunch. Besides, he was raised in Thailand! He should be used to this heat, right?

Yuuri jumped up when the bells for the door jingled. 

“Hello, welcome to Celestino Flow—Oh!” 

His heart did a little flip. There, in the doorway, stood the most beautiful man he had ever seen, dripping with sweat like a model from some cologne ad, that beautiful statuesque manly sweat, not like the sticky mass the rest of humanity became. A beautiful flush blazed across his porcelain cheeks. His hair—silver? How unusual, he didn’t look too much older than himself—stuck to his face in a way that was quite provocative. He was carrying some very heavy-looking bags, and he did seem to be breathing very heavily though, and his cheeks really were quite red. Perhaps too red.

“Oh my goodness, are you alright? Can I get you some cold water?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Jenkins and Ms. Hu are based on my very real gay great aunts. I met them only once, but they left an indelible impression upon me. I love them. So much.
> 
> A WILD PHICHIT APPEARS!! Phichit is kinda over the top? But I wouldn't write him any other way?? Phichit loves all things romantic and adorable; he melts at old people kissing, cries at children holding hands and practically has an existential crisis when his hamsters stuff their cheeks with sunflower seeds.
> 
> Not much of the magical realism appearing yet but I PROMISE IT WILL SOON I SWEAR


	3. Chapter 3

Would he like a drink of water?

 _Why would I when I already have one standing in front of me?_ With a display of restraint uncharacteristic of Victor, he bit his tongue.

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“No, no, let me get you one! It’s over a hundred degrees out there today, you know, you need to be careful—I mean, not that you aren’t careful!” The man rushed off to a side room, a beautiful pink blush tinting his cheeks as he fretted. He disappeared from sight. “It’s just so hot out there, you know, and you never know how easily—OUCH!” There was a clatter from the room, and Victor shifted anxiously from his position by the door.

“Are you okay in there?” He asked concernedly.

“OH, oh I’m fine—darn shelf, I always hit my head there—” Victor head water running, then the clinking of ice cubes. _Oh, he just said darn, I think I’m in love!_

“As I was saying, it’s really easy to get dehydrated in this heat,” he said with the cutest shy smile as he emerged from the side room, face still tinged that lovely shade of pink, holding a glass of ice water, and pushing up the blue framed glasses that had slid down on his face.

“Oh, well yes, I suppose you’re right,” Victor responded lamely. He groaned internally at the terribly uncreative response. He took a long drink of the water, intensely grateful. Was this a man or angel, he wondered? The beautiful man toyed with the edges of his navy-blue apron. A little name tag read in bold letters, YUURI. Yuuri! Such a beautiful name! Yuuri’s gentle eyes were cast downward, but snuck upwards every now and then to peek at Victor’s face before just as quickly looking away.

Victor thought his heart would beat out of his chest.

Victor had met, and been attracted to, a lot of men and women. But he had never felt such an instant pull to another person as he did with Yuuri. He wanted to know everything about him, right down to the size of his shoes and how he liked his toast.

“Ah! Why don’t you sit and relax? Do you need help with anything? You have an awful lot of bags there—” Yuuri had pulled out a stool from the counter and rushed about to grab his bags.

“I can get that—”

“Oh really, it’s no problem at all! Please rest! It’s easy to get sick on a day like today, just take some time to cool down and let me know if you need anything!”

Yuuri was already rushing away, blushing a deep red, into that side room again. When he didn’t appear immediately, Victor tore his eyes away from the doorway with a sigh to gaze at the fridges and displays full of flowers. It was then that he noticed something… strange. The flowers were all lush and beautiful, but almost too much so, like an artist’s rendering instead of the real thing. Not a single rose bore a bruised leaf, not a single lily had brown spots. And there was a shimmering about them, almost undetectable, barely perceptible—the tell-tale sign of _magic_. Very strange indeed.

Magical beings weren’t exactly rare, but they weren’t exactly common either. Most had the kind of magic that was relatively inconsequential, small little abilities like always predicting the weather correctly or being able to heat up cold liquids. And the more he looked, he could see that all over this little flower shop was the glamor of magic, flickering around the flowers, making them flourish and bloom all the more brightly. Somebody here was using magic at a rather prodigious rate and in a rather liberal manner, Victor thought to himself.

Well, whoever they were, they certainly were very talented. It was nice to know that there were other people like him I this town, he thought vaguely. He had more pressing matters to attend to—that being the very cute boy who was unfortunately out of sight. He sighed to himself. He had barely been able to utter more than a few words to the man, how was he supposed to get his phone number? He sat at the workbench, drinking his water. A few more seconds of shuffling and Yuuri reemerged, still somewhat pink, with an armful of vases.

This would not do! Victor Nikiforov was a charmer! He was nothing if not suave and charismatic, and damn it all, he would get his man!

Victor sat upright on his stool and plastered the best, coyest smile he could conjure.

“Thank you so much for the water, Yuuri,” he lingered on the vowels of Yuuri’s name.

Yuuri momentarily frowned, but then glanced down at his name badge. Cute, Victor thought, for what must have been the dozenth time today.

“Oh, you’re welcome! Really, it’s no problem. We don’t get too many customers this time of year, especially when it’s this hot.”

 _It’s you who’s hot_ , Victor thought dreamily.

Yuuri was now at the wall, picking out some Gerber daisies from one of the fridges. He smiled as he stroked some of the petals gently before bringing them back to the worktable.

Victor leaned on one hand on the counter, peering up at Yuuri through his eyelids.

“So, how long have you worked here, Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked over at Victor briefly before looking down again. Victor was slightly annoyed at that—was the floor really that much more interesting than his face?—but remained undaunted.

“Oh, um, two years now?” Yuuri mumbled as he began expertly assembling the bouquet. “I don’t work here full time more of the time, I’m at student at the local college,”

“Ah!” Victor brought his hands together suddenly. “I just moved here and I signed up to audit some classes at that college! Ohhh, maybe we’ll be in some classes together, Yuuri! How exciting!” Victor grabbed at the opportunity.

“Look!” He pulled the textbooks out of his bag. And held them proudly to Yuuri.

“Ah!” Yuuri exclaimed, putting a hand to his cheek. “I’m taking that Gender Studies class too!”

“I’m so happy to have someone as nice as you in my class, Yuuri!” Victor beamed at Yuuri. _And beautiful, and adorable, and cute_ , he added internally. “You know, Yuuri, I don’t believe I introduced myself. My name is Victor! Victor Nikiforov!”

He stood up and held out his hand to Yuuri. Yuuri gave Victor the sweetest smile, wide and innocent, as he took it. His hand was warm and slightly calloused in his softer hands. Victor slid his left hand over top of Yuuri’s and swept a thumb over his knuckles. Yuuri’s eyes locked with his.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yuuri…?”

Finally, Yuuri’s eyes did not leave his. They remained transfixed on Victor’s, and it took him a few seconds before his mouth formed words.

“…Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki.” He practically whispered it.

“Yuuri Katsuki.” Victor let the name roll on his tongue slowly and spill over his lips. Yes, it was a very good name. A very good name indeed.

“Well, Yuuri Katsuki,” his voice practically melted of his tongue like warm honey, “is there any chance I could get your phone number?” He released Yuuri’s hand. “And I’ll give you mine! I would love to be able to speak to you more, you know, about the class.” Victor added innocently. In fact, he was already pulling out a piece of paper from the small notebook he carried around (he was rather forgetful, after all, and had long since taken to writing important things down in the occasionally vain attempt not to forget them) and scrawling his number on it.

Yuuri took the paper slowly and mutely, and simply stared at it for a full five seconds.

“I’ll text you so you can get my number,” He finally said. Victor winced internally. He wasn’t so good at that “texting” business yet. He had lived many years off the grid, so to speak, so getting back on it was a grueling process. But, for Yuuri, he could learn to do anything.

“I’m looking forward to your text!” Victor could jump for joy.

“I suppose,” he said sadly, looking at the bench strewn with flower clippings, “that I should leave you to your work. Yuuri, it was truly wonderful meeting you, and thank you so much for the water!” He chugged the remaining water. “I just hope I remember how to get home from here!” He sighed dramatically. It was true that his sense of direction wasn’t great, and in his fury to find air conditioning he had lost his bearings.

“Oh no! Did your phone die? I have a charger if you need it, is in an iPhone?”

“Hmm? No, no, my phone’s charge seems okay.” Victor pulled out his phone and looked confusedly at the little battery symbol at the top. “I mean, it looks mostly full? I think?”

Yuuri stared at him with a mixture of awe and incredulity, full-lipped mouth agape, blue-framed glasses slipping down his nose.

“What?” asked Victor confusedly.

“Victor… by chance, do you now know how to use your phone?”

“Yes I can!” Victor said defensively. “They showed me how to make calls at the store, though now that I think about it the saleswoman seemed a little surprised…” Victor shrugged. “Well, I am 57, after all. I guess I qualify as old.”

Yuuri face was frozen for a full second before it broke into a small smile and a little snort that set Victor’s heart aflutter (this seemed to be a common reaction today, he noted).

“Ah, 57, of course you are, how could I ever think otherwise?” Yuuri chuckled. “But seriously, you can pull up directions right from your phone! Unlock it and I’ll show you, _old man_.”

Yuuri proceeded to show him this feature called Maps that even showed his location in real time—technology really was amazing, wasn’t it?—when he glanced happened to glance down at the bouquet Yuuri had finished assembling.

The colors of the Gerber daisies seemed to glow like a fire, they were so brilliant—in fact, the colors seemed to be changing barely perceptibly along the edges, and were giving off a very distinct flare of magic that had certainly not been there before—at least not to that extent.

“Wow, Yuuri, you’re really good with your hands.” The words escaped Victor’s lips before he had any time to think. He winced.

Yuuri gaped at him, mouth open wide as a fish, and before Victor could even sputter out an apology, the bell on the door tinkled. In burst a sweaty dark-skinned boy with black hair wearing the most neon-bright blue short shorts and tank top emblazoned with a cartoon hamster. He was wearing a lime-green snapback and fluorescent pink-rimmed sunglasses. The overall appearance was so obnoxiously bright that Victor was afraid he had just burned his retinas.

“Yuuri, I got that hummus wrap you just HAD TO HAVE in this billion degree heat and you better be grateful that you have the bestest friend in the whole wide world who would brave going out for you in this godforsaken heat I swear to god it’s like Satan’s—”

Phichit stopped abruptly mid-rant as he spotted Victor and dropped the paper bag he was holding.

“Oh.”

Oh, indeed.

The room, already cool from the rumbling air conditioner, seemed to drop another ten degrees, radiating from the tendrils of magic being released by the newcomer.

Victor was unwelcome.

Victor was a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I only have a vague idea where I'm going with this?? So I'm just gonna roll with it??


	4. Chapter 4

“Phichit?” Yuuri asked with trepidation. Victor had made a flurry of stuttered excuses before running out the door as soon as Phichit had shown up. He had been nothing but smiles, but it was the kind of smile he had on his face when somebody asked if Bangkok was in India. He was now silently setting their food on the work table. This worried Yuuri even more.

 

“Phichit, is something wrong?”

 

Still no answer. Phichit took off his hat and put on his apron slowly, his face inscrutable. Yuuri noticed his fingers shook barely perceptibly. Suddenly, he looked up at Yuuri, a smile plastered on his face again.

 

“Who was that, Yuuri?”

 

“Oh, um… his name is Victor, he’s new in town.”

 

“Oh, is that so? What did he want? What did he say to you?”

 

Yuuri began regaling Phichit with how he had come in to escape the heat, perfectly innocent, and how he was taking the same class as Yuuri, so he wasn’t a rando, everything was perfectly normal, no flirting _at all_.

 

“And that’s why he gave you his phone number with a little heart written next to it?” Phichit said flatly, gesturing at the piece of paper Yuuri had left sitting in plain sight on the work bench. Yuuri turned brick red for what felt like the billionth time today.

 

“Oh, I, uh…” He stammered. “I don’t know why there’s a heart, there, ha ha…ha? I mean he seemed a little naïve. He could barely use his phone. He probably thought it was cute. Yeah. I mean, he didn’t even know how to pull up maps yet and I had to show him! Isn’t that crazy? Maybe he was Amish or something?”

 

He paused to think seriously on that for a second.

 

“His accent was Russian or Slavic or something, do they have Amish in Russia?” Yuuri was unsure of that. He made a mental note to Google it. “Or maybe—or maybe he was really like… really poor and couldn’t afford it… Oh my God, did I sound like a total privileged prick? I sounded like a total privileged prick, didn’t I, Phichit?” Yuuri groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

 

Phichit was silent for a moment. He heard the unwrapping of the paper around then hummus wraps.

 

“I think it’s best if you keep your distance from this guy, Yuuri. I mean, do you really _know_ him? He just waltzed into the flower shop today and—”

 

“And you just met that bio major yesterday!” Yuuri blurted out before he could stop himself. He had shot upright to glare at Phichit, who stared at him, shocked.

 

“Ah! I’m sorry! Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’ll be careful. I will. But I just… he seemed really nice. He had a nice feel about him, is all. I mean, yes he was the most handsome man I have ever seen, but at the same time… at the same time, I’d like to give him a chance, Phichit.” Yuuri looked at straight at Phichit, back straightened, face determined.

 

Phichit sighed.

 

\-----

That night, Victor slept fitfully. Without air conditioning, and the only cooling spell he knew worn off, the air clung heavily to him like too many blankets, even as he lay naked in bed.

 

And, despite the thick heat, he dreamed of snow.

 

The snow fell thickly, covering a manor outside of St. Petersburg, the stately, old, robin’s egg blue house frosted with white. He stood frozen to the cold black and white marble that seemed to stretch endlessly under his much smaller feet. Paintings of stern-looking people he didn’t know glared down at him from their gilt frames, high, high above him.

 

He stared out a tall, many-paned window, the glass blurred with age, at the big black car that had just parked in the drive.

 

He knew that car, and he knew that rising fear rising in his stomach that it brought all too well.

 

“Young master,” a voice called from behind him.

 

He turned slowly to see the old maid in her stiff black outfit and equally stiff gray hair spoke towering over him.

 

“It is time to greet your father.”

 

\-----

Victor awoke with a start. Disoriented, he half-expected to see the white snow of winter in his motherland building up outside the window, and feel the cold biting at his nose, definitely not the cloying heat suffocating his body.

 

He struggled to calm his breathing. He gulped down the bottle of water he left next to his bed, which was nothing more than a mattress spread with some sheets laying on the bare floor. He stared at the blank, slanting ceiling, streaked with a few glints of orange light from the street. Faces of people—of a particular person—he’d rather forget managed to swirl themselves out of the nothingness.

 

When his English-speaking nanny had warned him as a child about the boogeyman coming to get him at night if he didn’t behave, it was his father’s face he pictured.

 

It was silly, he thought to himself, all the terrors he had lived through, all the things he had seen, all the things that had been done to him, and a simple childhood memory on a hot summer’s night had laid his heart open. The tears, he had just realized, were pouring down his face.

 

He stared at the bottle of water he clenched in his hand as his sobs slowed. He remembered the water he’d had just that afternoon, of the warm, gentle, shy boy who had given it to him. Ah, Victor was such a mess. His father was dead and gone, and still the fear lingered.

 

Yuuri was like himself and yet so different. He could use magic, too, and used it like he wasn’t afraid of anybody seeing. Yuuri had no need to hide from anybody.

 

He was a beam of sunlight surrounded by a field of flowers. A beautiful, shy, sweet, talented creature who pulled at every heartstring in Victor’s tired heart. Victor felt pulled like a moth to the flame by the boy named Yuuri Katsuki.

 

“What am I to do with myself?” He wondered aloud, and to no one in particular.

 

\-----

 _There were few things more implacable than Victor Nikiforov with his mind made up,_ an old friend named Chris had told him once, many years ago. This statement, he had to admit to himself, was very true. Once he set his mind to something, there was little anyone or anything could do to dissuade him. And he had set his mind on Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Victor was sitting cross-legged on the floor, spooning soggy cereal sluggishly into his mouth when his phone dinged from its spot charging a few feet away. It took Victor almost a full three seconds to process that it was, in fact, the funny little noise the thing made when he got a text message, and another second to realize who that message could be from, and a much, much shorter amount of time to set the bowl down haphazardly, splashing milk on the floor, and to lunge for his phone.

 

Unknown sender (8:13): _Hi Victor! This is Yuuri Katsuki from the florist! I hope you are having a nice morning and I didn’t wake you up. This is my number! I look forward to having classes with you! :)_

 

Victor emitted a sound at such a pitch it could only be classified as a squeal. He clutched the phone to his chest, said several prayers to the gods of technology that blessed him with this device that allowed him to speak to The Most Beautiful Boy Ever, and spent the next thirty minutes trying to save his contact in his phone. He then began laboriously texting out a response.

 

(8:48): _Hi Yuuri! I am awake. I am not used to textring. I am sorrry it takes me a while. What does that mean what you put on the end?_

Yuuri!!!!! (8:49): … _you mean :) ?_

 

(8:51): _Yes_

Yuuri!!!!! (8:51): _It’s a smiley face :)_

(8:52): _Oh that is cute! :) Like you! :) :)_

(8:53): _:)_

(8:54): _:)_

 

                                           Yuuri!!!!! (8:54): _。_ _.:_ _☆_ _*:_ _･_ _'(*_ _⌒_ _―_ _⌒_ _*)))_

 

(9:00): _WHAT_

                                           Yuuri!!!!! (9:01): _lol_

(9:02): _WHAT_

 

 

\-----

              After the simultaneously confusing and enlightening text exchange over breakfast, Victor had learned that Yuuri was at work today. Victor saw an _opportunity_. And so, after an arduous adventure with the maps feature on his phone, he finally managed to get directions to the bakery he saw on his exploits the day before. It was a pretty little place, with striped awnings and beautiful cakes in the window. He bought a scrumptious-looking blueberry pie and set out bearing the pretty blue and white striped box tied up neatly with a silk ribbon as a gift for his savior, the most beautiful boy in the world.

             

              Today, thankfully, was somewhat cooler, or perhaps just less humid, or perhaps his own joy just made it feel that way.

 

He wound his way back to the flower shop, humming merrily as he went. The sky was wonderfully blue today, wasn’t it? The events of last night seemed to fade away as the prospect of meeting Yuuri again filled his head.

 

There was one problem of course, he thought to himself, frowning slightly and temporarily slowing his pace. That friend of his. The pure animosity Victor had been greeted with was spectacular. He wondered what he was… not human, definitely. Probably some kind of fae? Well, it certainly wasn’t important what _he_ was, Victor just hoped he wouldn’t get in the way _too_ much.

 

He had pie. Pie was good. How bad could a person who brought gifts of pie be? He would use his pie to show Yuuri and therefore that friend of his that he was thoughtful and sincere. His logic was ironclad, he reassured himself. Foolproof.

 

Victor was paying slightly more attention to the scenery around him this time. This was partly because his brain was slightly less fixated on the heat, but mostly because he wanted to memorize this place perfectly so he could tell his grandchildren _exactly_ the scene he met their granddad in.

 

The flower shop was located right off Main Street, the town green in view. Rows of turn-of-the-century houses painted in bright colors lined the quiet street, tall elms periodically casting deep green shade upon it.

 

Yuuri’s shop was easy to spot. It was a bit older than the rest, a charming brick building with crisp white trim and black shutters, three stories tall, with a slate roof. Ever dutifully living up to the store that resided within it, the building overflowed with flowers. They were pouring from window boxes and pre-made planters adorned a display on either side of the green door. Brilliant sprays of pink, yellow, red and blue burst out exuberantly from pots ranging from terra cotta to a ceramic boot to a particularly cute one of a cobalt blue fish. These flowers too, he noticed, had the same slight shimmer of magic that the flowers inside the shop had.

 

A single bay window, shaded by a green awning bedecked with windchimes (he hadn’t noticed those before, especially since the previous day didn’t have the slightest breeze) and gave a full view inside of the narrow shop. And inside he could see, clear as day, Yuuri working on a bouquet at the work table. His heart skipped a beat.

 

Taking a deep breath, and putting on his most charming smile, he swung the door open with a tinkle, and once again came face-to-face with those gorgeous brown eyes. Yuuri looked up from his work table, a small smile ready on his lips. It burst into a far bigger one when his eyes met Victor’s, and that made Victor’s heart swell.

 

“Ah! Victor! What are you doing here?” Yuuri looked so radiant, and the smile that bloomed across his face was prettier than all the flowers in Celestino’s shop.

 

“I…” he felt his thoughts scatter as he looked at that sweet face. He wondered for a split second what was the most beautiful part of him. The soft rounded cheeks? Those doe eyes? The soft pink lips? The messy black hair? Or perhaps it was his gentleness?

 

“I brought a pie!” He blurted out, wincing at how high-pitched he sounded, shutting his jaw that had fallen open in awe. He quickly put the smile back on his face. “I brought a pie,” he repeated, slightly more calmly, “to thank you for yesterday.”

 

“Oh, Victor! You really didn’t need to! All I did was give you a glass of water, it’s hardly worth going so out of your way—“

 

“I insist!” Victor then held the box aloft proudly. “It’s blueberry! I bought it just now! Using the maps thingy you showed me how to use on my phone!”

 

“Oh, Victor, I love blue—” he stopped suddenly and gingerly took the box in his hands. “Did you get this at Sweet Dreams? Right by the bandstand?”

 

“Yup!” Victor swelled with pride.

 

“There’s no way I can accept this!”

 

Victor’s stomach fell away. What was wrong with that bakery? Was it run by ax murderers? Were they bigots or something? Had he just irrevocably offended Yuuri and forsaken their future, their three children’s future, and their eight grandchildren’s future?

 

“It’s too expensive! They’ve won all kinds of fancy awards! They were featured in one of those food documentaries on Netflix even! This is much too generous of you Victor, you should enjoy it yourself—”

 

Oh, so _that_ was the problem! Victor had thought at the time that $40 for a pie had seemed a bit steep. But he hadn’t bought too many pies in his life, and it looked too good to pass up, and besides, any amount of money was worth it for Yuuri.

 

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Slow down!” He may have been over-interpreting it, but Yuuri’s reaction seemed a little _too_ strong. Yuuri was genuinely getting himself in a tizzy over something as silly as a pie. He was wringing his hands, looking down, gnawing at his lip quietly. “I suppose… well, maybe I did spend too much money. I historically haven’t gotten out much and I have to admit… well… I don’t know much about these things. I’m sorry I upset you, but you really and truly do not have to worry about the money.”

 

“Oh! I—I—didn’t mean to suggest that you shouldn’t spend your money, I mean it’s your money to do with as you wish and I didn’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t— shouldn’t—”

 

Yuuri seemed to curl in on himself, his eyes glued to the floor. He looked intensely vulnerable, like he had shown Victor something he hadn’t meant to. Victor was unsure of what to do, if he should touch him or not, or of what kind of reassurance he needed. A few moments of silence passed by.

 

“Hey, Yuuri, would you like it if I shared the pie with you?” Victor asked softly. “Your friend can have some too, wherever he is! It’ll be a pie party!” Yuuri looked up at that, back down, then up again, meeting Victor’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a surprisingly hard chapter to write. But I got it done... actually welllll over a week ago but I haven't had time to edit! BUT ANYWAYS HAPPY BELATED FOURTH TO FOLKS IN THE US STAY STRONG


	5. Chapter 5

 “Phichit’s out on deliveries, but he should be back any minute.” Yuuri said as he disappeared into the side room (Victor was growing to hate this room, Yuuri disappeared into it and couldn’t be seen far too often) to fetch the things for the pie.

 

He reemerged moments later and set down the things on the counter, pulling up an extra stool for Victor.

 

“Do you want to start without him?”

 

Yuuri hesitated for a second. He gazed longingly at the pie, which Victor had carefully unwrapped to present to Yuuri proudly. “Yes, I think we should… just in case, you know, he’s late… or something…” He gulped. “No point in waiting, right?”

 

“Hmm, yes! Who knows, he may be very, very late,” Victor said, nodding virtuously. “We’ll try our very hardest to save some for him.”

 

Yuuri giggled. Now _that_ may be the most beautiful sound in the world.

 

“Did I mention that I used the maps thing to get there like you showed me?” Victor asked brightly.

 

“Hmmm, you may have mentioned it,” Yuuri still seemed a little tense, but he was clearly relaxed enough to joke a little. Victor watched he fiddled a little with the forks before blurting out, “Why do you have a hard time with your phone? I mean, I know it’s not really my business, but I was so shocked last time I was worried I had offended you. I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m in a worrying mood today.” He ended lamely.

 

“Oh, well that’s easy enough to answer I suppose,” Victor answered airily as he took hold of the knife Yuuri had set down beside the pie.

 

“I never had a phone because I’ve lived most of my life of the grid, so to speak. It’s not that I didn’t _want_ to learn,” Victor explained carefully cut through the pie, “but they don’t exactly have cell service in places like Patagonia or the Amazon, and when I _did_ live in cities, I kept a low profile.”

 

Victor frowned slightly at the pie for a second before continuing slowly.

 

“My father was… not a very nice man.” He carefully plated the pie, all while continuing to avoid eye contact. “So I guess I kept quiet to keep out of his way. I used computers every now and then, but smart phones not so much. But he died last year so I’ve decided it’s high time I lived my life the way I want to. I’ve missed out on a lot, Yuuri, and I’m trying to make up for it.”

 

He smiled a little smile at Yuuri as he passed him a slice, for the first time looking him in the eye.

 

“But to be honest, I really have no clue what I’m doing.”

 

Yuuri sat stock still for a second on his stool before taking the pie slice, staring at Victor with wide eyes. He set the plate down carefully, searching for words.

 

“Oh,” he breathed out. “Oh, I’m… sorry your father wasn’t a nice man, that is… awful, Victor.”

 

The look of pain that passed over Yuuri’s face made Victor’s heart twist. Yuuri was gazing morosely at his perfectly cut slice of pie. He gently laid his hand on top of Yuuri’s, who looked up through his eyelashes to meet his gaze with parted lips.

 

“It is what is, Yuuri,” he said gently. “My life hasn’t been awful. I know for a fact that the last few days have been very, _very_ wonderful indeed.”

 

Victor had successfully coaxed a smile out of Yuuri.

 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Yuuri asked softly. “To talk about the past? Your father? I don’t want to pry, but… I want to know more about you, Victor. I want to know _you_.”

 

Victor’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Yuuri was curious about _him!_ It was a truly wonderful day to be alive! Oh, how he could dance and sing! But no, no, that simply wouldn’t do—Victor Nikiforov was nothing if not cool and collected. _Focus, Victor! Be smooth, smooth!_

 

He leaned in slightly towards Yuuri, leaning an arm casually against the counter.

 

“And I am _very_ curious about you, Yuuri Katsuki. How about this? You can ask me whatever you want, and I will never lie to you. But if there is something that makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to answer, I will tell you immediately. You can do the same for me! That way, you never have to worry that you’re offending me or upsetting me.” Victor paused, put a finger to his lips, and thought for a second before adding, “and if you’re in a worrying kind of mood, let me know, if that’s not too bold to ask. Deal?”

 

Yuuri’s face broke into a huge smile.

 

“Should we trade stories over our pie, Yuuri? I’d _love_ to hear more about yourself.”

 

\-----

 

Victor learned a lot about Yuuri. He learned that Yuuri was from Japan, that his parents owned a hot spring, that he had an older sister named Mari who smoked too much and loved boy bands and used to beat up the kids who made fun of him when he was a chubby grade schooler. He learned Yuuri was a double major in Gender Studies and Biology, minored in dance, and that he was a junior. He learned that he normally only worked at the flower shop on Sundays during the semester but he and Phichit were covering the shop full-time during the summer break so Celestino, the owner, could take the world tour trip with his wife he’d been saving for years to do.

 

Yuuri talked about school, his friends, social media, his classes. About waiting in lines with Phichit for a new iPhone, about school events, and dances, and birthday parties, childhood fights with his sister, family trips, and all the things Victor _knew_ were run-of-the-mill, mundane, common, universal experiences.

 

“Not that any of my stories are particularly interesting compared to yours, what with all your traveling and everything!” Yuuri chuckled, with that soft smile and crinkled eyes.

 

“Mmmm, I’ve certainly had a lot of adventures!” Victor tried to make his voice sound normal, cheerful, but it sounded strained, even to his own ears. Yuuri noticed. He had been working his way through his second slice of pie with much gusto, but stopped midway when he heard Victor’s tone. Yuuri was certainly throwing him off his step—he just couldn’t lie to him. His face radiated concern.

 

“What’s wrong, Victor? Did something I say upset you?” Yuuri entreated.

 

Victor sighed as he set down his fork. He focused his vision on the countertop towards a particular collection of knots that looked just like an owl. Or maybe it was a possessed cat? He very determinedly stared at is as he formulated a response, controlling the urge to squirm.

 

“No, no, it’s just…” He twisted his hands in his lap, where he hoped Yuuri couldn’t see. “It’s—it’s silly. I just wish my stories were a bit more like your stories, that’s all, if that makes sense.”

             

Yuuri was quiet.

 

 “I know I just met you... well, about a day ago, and hefting my life story on you like this… I hope I’m not crossing any kinds of boundaries here. Are you sure you won’t go running if I get strangely personal here?”

 

“Victor, I _did_ tell you literally just now that I was curious about you. I will listen to whatever you feel comfortable telling me, no more, no less.” Yuuri’s face was determined, and he crossed his arms and nodded his head in one firm movement. It was… incredibly adorable, actually. Was there anything this man did that wasn’t perfect?

 

“I did do that, didn’t I? Well. I haven’t had very much opportunity at a normal life. I can’t—I don’t even know how to use a microwave, or pay taxes, I’ve never watched TV, not really, I don’t understand slang or anything like that. I’ve never gone to school or… I don’t know. Seen a movie in a theatre.”

 

Victor worried at the hem of his shirt. He’d bought it at the thrift shop the day prior, reveling in the Hawaiian shirt’s lurid pinks and greens. Never before had he risked standing out so much. He had stared at it, torn by indecision, for a full half an hour before gathering the courage to buy it. Putting it on this morning took one of the biggest leaps of faith he could possibly summon—years of trying to be innocuous were very hard to overcome.

 

“I’ve been ignoring life and love for my entire life, Yuuri.“ Then he added, voice almost a whisper, “and it makes me feel very, _very_ far away from you.”

 

A hand touched his cheek. Victor started slightly and shot a surprised look up to Yuuri’s warm brown eyes, glowing behind his blue-rimmed glasses. A ray of late afternoon sun was streaming through the window, illuminating Yuuri in a stream of golden light, splashing onto the hundreds of flowers around him. His form looked blurry, hazy, soft tendrils of Yuuri’s magic rising off his body and mixing in the glittering light. He felt the soft pulse of magic flow gently from his fingertips into his cheek, a feeling of peace and wholeness and _warmth_ rising through him.

 

For all the heat of the summer’s day, he hadn’t known he was cold until greeted with that warmth.

 

“I am here, Victor. _Right_ here.”

 

An _angel_. He was an _angel._

             

“I—I’m not so good at life myself, but if you want, I can help you learn. We can figure life out together. I can be your coach!”

 

Victor clutched at the hand Yuuri had laid on his cheek.

 

“Be my coach, Yuuri!” He giggled through a watery smile. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Yuuri, helping him learn, guiding him navigate through many banal, perfectly ordinary years together—

 

“OH. MY. GOD. If I get stuck behind ONE MORE tractor today, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL—” In burst Phichit, the one person they had almost forgotten completely about for the past—well, two and a half hours—in storm of wildly ringing bells.

 

Yuuri yanked his hand back, and Victor’s heart sunk from the sudden loss. He reminded himself that the memory of Yuuri’s warm hand on his cheek, however, would sustain him for many, many days to come.

 

“Oh hi, Phichit, um… welcome back.” A bright red Yuuri stammered.

 

Phichit glared at Victor. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, he, Victor Nikiforov, would simply _not_ be backing down anymore. This prize was too great.

 

He grabbed a slice of blueberry pie and a fork and proffered it with his winningest smile.

 

“Pie?” He asked with his sweetest, most charming voice. This was a fight he simply _refused_ to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY, it’s gonna go DOWN.
> 
> HEYYYYYY… it’s been… *looks at calendar*… oh… well, never mind that! I’m back! 
> 
> I have written and rewritten and edited this chapter so many times I swear my eyes were gonna fall out of my sockets. It fought me every inch of the way, but here it is, warts, inadequate length, blatant references to canon and all. AND ALL JUST A WEEK BEFORE YOI’S FIRST ANNIVERSARY!!! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THE BEST SHOW EVER!!


End file.
